


Morning Bound Train

by Bluehaven4220



Series: Methos and Berna: World Enough and Time [1]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Comfort Sex, Dancing and Singing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Male-Female Friendship, Music, My First Work in This Fandom, Self-Discovery, Slice of Life, Starting Over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25388359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluehaven4220/pseuds/Bluehaven4220
Summary: Bernadine “Berna” Gordon has had, to put it lightly, a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. To remedy this, she walks into Duncan MacLeod’s dojo, later going to Joe’s bar for a drink…
Relationships: Methos/Original Character
Series: Methos and Berna: World Enough and Time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995949
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10





	Morning Bound Train

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my very first Highlander fic. I've been a big fan for many years, and finally worked up the courage to try writing a story, specifically one that had my three favourite characters in it. This story is over seven months in the making, and I am excited to share it with you.
> 
> Song titles, lyrics and book titles are italicized. Musical artists’ names are mentioned in the end notes
> 
> Special thanks to ButterflyGhost and lightspire for their help, hand holding, suggestions, and overall encouragement as I wrote this. Much love to you both. 
> 
> I had the song “Morning Bound Train” by Jimmy Rankin playing as I edited this, thus the inspiration for the title. 
> 
> Currently unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine

Berna Gordon was having a bad day. 

She stormed back into the dojo, a face like thunder and furious with David for doing what he’d done. He’d tried to explain away what she’d seen, but that’s very difficult to do when she’d caught him in their bed with another woman, and that had been the last straw. Seeing no other option, she’d grabbed her gym bag, told him she’d be back in a few hours to pick up her things, and fled the apartment. 

As she stepped up to the heavy bag, properly kitted out with gloves, clothes, and shoes, she heard the front door open. Knowing it could either be Charlie DeSalvo, Richie Ryan, or Duncan MacLeod (no one else would be in the dojo so late at night), she simply kept working away, pretending David’s face was attached to the bag.

“Hey Berna,” she heard from the ropes.

Not Charlie, or Richie. Duncan.

“What?” she snapped, pounding the bag. “Cause whatever you’re selling, I don’t want it.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I heard you come in.”

“Good for you.” Rude, yes, but at that point she didn’t care. “And you found me working away. Congratulations, aren’t you smart.” She landed a right hook on the bag and kept going. “I suggest you clear out off the ropes, Duncan. That’s not a safe place to stand. You might get hit.”

She heard him snort, then step in the practice ring. Dressed in his own set of gym clothes, he grabbed a hold of the bag to stop it from swinging.

“You wanna hit me, Berna? Go right ahead. You’re first in a long line.” His voice sounded harsh and ragged, not like Duncan at all. When she looked at him, his face was stiff and angry, though who he was angry with she couldn’t tell. Not her, but right then she didn't care. If she could hit him hard enough, he’d hit back and put up a good fight. 

“You gonna fight back?” She raised her fists, her voice cracking.

He laughed, but didn’t look like he found the situation funny. “Try me.”

So she did. She flew at him, no style or technique, just ploughed into him, digging her fists into his belly, pummelling his chest. He made a noise that sounded like ‘oof’ and braced himself against the ropes. His face had gone white with startled pain, but he wasn’t fighting back.

“Hit me, you coward!” she yelled at him. “Or are you too scared to hit a girl?”

“You’re not a girl,” he said as he pushed her backwards and dodged her fist. He was fast on his feet, she’d grant him that. Right now she really just wanted to hit him until he bled. Yeah, that was a vicious thought. She didn’t know how much he’d hurt her until she knew how much he'd lied. 

But Duncan hadn’t hurt her; it had been David. _David_ had lied to her.

“Go on, Berna,” he taunted, moving his hand in a ‘come here’ motion. “Call that a punch? I thought Charlie taught you better than that.” 

She screamed and rushed at him again, and he pivoted sideways and blocked her. He still wasn’t hitting her though. He was making believe, throwing out punches that missed her by a mile. Her anger surged. How dare he treat her like a child? She struck out again and her gloved fist caught his cheekbone. His head rocked back and a flash of blood appeared on his face. She’d split skin, and he still wasn’t fighting back. 

“What’s wrong with you?” she yelled. Uppercut, jab, right hook. They each hit their target, there was more blood and he wasn’t taking steps to defend himself. Not even pretending to fight. Then she understood. 

He’d _heard_ the cracking and heartbreak in her voice, and he was letting her hit him so that she could process her emotions. But why? He was under no obligation to do so. This wasn’t his battle.

She dropped her fists, panting, and took a long look at him. He turned his face away. His eyes were hooded and dark. She said it again, but this time not in anger. “What’s wrong with you?” 

He shrugged, and simply stepped back and out of the ring. “Once you’re finished here, let’s head to Joe’s. Best thing after a bad day and a hard workout.”

“Alright then,” she breathed, wiping her forehead. “You drive.” 

ooOoo

Joe Dawson looked over the bar to see Berna sitting alone at the table in the corner nursing a draft beer, obviously not in the mood to talk. She’d come in with MacLeod, and had been polite enough when he’d asked how she was doing, since she hadn’t been scheduled to work that day, but no one who came into the bar with such a contemplative look on their face could be having a good day. 

She drummed her fingers on the table, a familiar rhythm that Joe recognized as the start of one of the songs he’d heard on the radio that morning as he and Methos (known to everyone else as Adam Pierson) had been doing inventory. He wondered if anyone had ever thought of putting a guitar in her hands…

He watched as someone he’d never seen before came up to talk with her, and her body language changed immediately. Her back tensed, one of her hands curled into a fist, and her eyes darkened as though preparing for another fight. Whoever this person was, this wasn’t going to end well. 

Apparently he wasn’t the only one who had noticed. Both Methos and MacLeod had turned to look and see if they needed to intervene, just in case. 

Luckily the interaction didn’t come to blows, but she came up to the bar and leaned forward. The man she’d been talking to left, Duncan’s eyes following him as he did.

Joe took that as a cue to lean forward, using the bar as a support. 

“Could you call me a cab, please, Joe?” She asked, her voice shaky and full of emotion. “I need to go home and grab all my stuff off the curb, and I’ve had a drink so I don’t want to drive.”

Okay, definitely a bad day. “Sure,” he nodded as he turned around to pick the phone receiver up off the wall. “Are you going to be okay on your own, though?”

“Oh yeah,” she nodded, sarcasm evident. “I just caught my boyfriend _in flagrante delicto_ with another woman, and three hours later, he’s got all my things packed in garbage bags for me.” Berna took a deep breath. “Can you also recommend an affordable hotel?”

Judging from the looks on their faces, neither MacLeod or Methos were going to let that happen. 

“Hey, Berna, why don’t Adam and I drive you over there? Once we get your things, you can stay at the dojo while we look for a new apartment for you?”

“Thanks just the same, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” She swayed on her feet. “Uh… is the washroom unlocked?”

Joe pointed back behind the left side of the bar, and felt his stomach drop as Berna retched. The bar had emptied out as it was ten minutes to close, and the sound echoing throughout the room hurt his heart. 

MacLeod paced the floor, agitated. He’d come to care for Berna as his martial arts student and friend, and he couldn’t do anything to help at this point. Because of that, he looked like he was going to climb up the wall at any moment.

“You’ll wear a hole in the floor, MacLeod,” Methos leaned against the bar with his back to Joe. “No use worrying. She’ll come out when she’s ready.” 

“I’m not worried, just concerned.” He continued pacing. “We can’t let her go back to wherever she’s headed alone. If the guy she’s seeing is so heartless as to do that to her stuff, who knows what he’ll do to her.”

Methos shrugged. “He might be there, he might not. Ask her what she wants to do.”

The door to the ladies’ room opened, and Berna stepped out, sighing. “First of all, I’d like to go get my bags, then get a hotel room where I can shower and brush my teeth.”

“In that case, I’d say take both of them with you,” Joe answered. “MacLeod’s right. Who knows what could happen.”

“But what about…”

“The washroom? Don’t worry about it. It’s due for a deep clean. Cleaners are in soon.”

Berna nodded. “Okay…” she grabbed her coat, dug into the pocket, and pulled out a pack of chewing gum. Popping one in her mouth, she led the way out the door. “Thank you, Joe. And I’m sorry.”

He waved her off. “You take care of yourself, Berna.”

ooOoo

Methos followed Berna out the door, himself followed by MacLeod. Once out into the night air, Berna stopped short.

“Son of a bitch! _That son of a bitch!”_ She shouted as she tripped over the pile of garbage bags sitting on the curb, exactly as the asshole said they’d be. “ Guess I don’t have to go home anymore. By the driver’s side door? _Really?_ He couldn’t even put them on top of the trunk of my car!” Exasperated, she dug into her pocket once again, this time producing a set of car keys. Opening the trunk, she threw the bags in and slammed it closed. 

Methos was blocking the driver’s side door before she had a chance to get back around the car.

“Keys,” he held out his hand.

“What?”

“Give me your keys, Berna,” Methos repeated. “You’re not in any shape to drive right now.”

“Really, Adam, I’m fine.”

Sometimes it was still odd to hear his current nom de plume, never mind that he’d been using it for over ten years. 

“If by fine, you mean raging mad, heartbroken, slightly inebriated, and having just thrown up, then yes, I agree, you’re completely fine,” he dropped his voice. “But seeing as I don’t believe you, give me your keys.”

Berna was too defeated to argue. She climbed into the passenger side and buckled her seatbelt.

MacLeod appeared at the driver’s side window as Methos put the key in the ignition.

“Will I be seeing you at the dojo?”

Methos turned to look at Berna, who shook her head. 

“I’ll be by in a few days for more sparring, Duncan. Tonight, I’d just like to shower and sleep.”

He nodded, and looked back at Methos, whispering “take care of her” in French before heading back toward the bar. 

“Ready?”

Berna nodded. “Don’t judge me too harshly on my choice of driving music.”

“What do you mean?” He asked as he turned the key in the ignition and the sounds of Fleetwood Mac’s _Go Your Own Way_ flooded the car. “Hmm… well as far as break up songs go, that’s not half bad.” He put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking lot, MacLeod disappearing back into the bar. 

Methos turned the volume down as they drove. “So, a question for you.”

“Yes?”

“I’ve got a spare room in my apartment if you don’t want to pay money for a hotel room.”

Berna chuckled. “That’s more of a statement than a question.” She stopped chewing and grabbed a tissue out of the box that she kept by her feet on the passenger side. “But I understand what you mean…” Wrapping her gum up into the tissue, she placed it into a plastic bag Methos assumed she used for garbage. “You know what? That sounds good. I promise I don’t sleepwalk.”

He snorted in response. “Alright then, off we go.” 

It took them around ten minutes to reach his apartment building, and, between the two of them, got the garbage bags full of her things up into the apartment proper in one trip.

“Bastard probably didn’t even remember to throw my toothbrush in here…” she sat down on the couch, reached into the first bag and began pulling things out at random. Blouses, trousers, a few dresses, undergarments… “Nope, of course he didn’t. Fuck!”

“There’s a new toothbrush in the medicine cabinet,” Methos offered. “Toothpaste as well. _Mi casa es su casa.”_ He leaned forward slightly and pointed to the door right across from his bedroom. “Get yourself cleaned up, I’ll make us some tea and some sandwiches, fair?”

Berna nodded. “Fair.” And packed herself off to the shower. 

He got up off the couch and into the kitchen to put the kettle on for tea, then pulled the bread down from on top of the fridge and set to looking for sandwich ingredients. It had been a few days since he’d done a grocery shop, but the roast chicken he’d cooked the night before should still be good. 

Ah ha, he had an idea. There was some celery, apples, red grapes, and some mayonnaise to add once he'd shredded the chicken. Good thing he’d bought a loaf of sourdough.

He heard the water stop in the bathroom and the door open a few moments later. Resisting the urge to turn around, he focused on chopping the ingredients in front of him. Berna had had a terrible day; the last thing she needed was for him to be looking at her in a state of undress.

“Hey, uh, Adam?”

He turned around to the sight of Berna wrapped in his dressing gown, her wet hair tumbling down around her shoulders in tendrils. 

“Hey Berna. How are you feeling?” He quickly turned back around, finished mixing the chicken salad and spread it onto the well toasted sourdough. 

“Much better, thank you,” she nodded, running another towel through her hair. “I hope you don’t mind but I borrowed your, um…” she gestured to the garment.

“Dressing gown.”

“Dressing gown,” she parroted. “Normally I’d say bathrobe or housecoat but I guess it’s all the same in the end.” She cleared her throat, and he could see her cheeks going slightly pink. “I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed it.” Berna repeated.

“No, not at all, I hope it’s comfortable.” The kettle whistled just as he turned back to finish slicing the sandwiches in two. “Tea’s ready. Sit yourself down, and I’ll bring things over.”

“You sure you don’t want help?”

“No, no, that’s fine. You sit. Table, couch… take your pick.”

He waited as Berna went back to the bathroom and grabbed another towel, spreading it on the cushions before sitting down and leaning back into the couch. “No water spots this way,” she answered his unspoken question.

He chuckled once, bringing the two cups of tea and sandwiches over on a tray, setting it down on the coffee table. 

“Adam, this looks delicious,” she picked up the tea mug and sipped. Sweetened with just the right amount of milk and honey to ward off shock, it was the best mug of tea she’d ever had. “Oh, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he picked up her plate and held it out to her. “I hope you like chicken salad.”

“I do indeed,” she smiled and put her mug back on the tray. The two of them each picked up a sandwich half and bit into it. “Wow! That’s good. What’s in it?”

“Bits and bobs in the fridge that needed to be used up.”

Berna finished chewing and swallowed. “Pretty delicious bits and bobs. Waste not, want not, right?”

“Absolutely,” Methos felt himself smiling, picking up his own mug and taking another sip. He’d definitely gotten the sweetening ratio correct this time. As he set to eating his own supper, he realized something.

Berna was sitting on a towel on his couch, hiding her naked body with his dressing gown. Her hair was drying into curls, the scent of a new bar of soap radiating from her skin. 

And Methos was finding it extremely difficult to keep from reaching out to cup her cheek.

Instead, they ate in silence, knees touching, until they’d finished their meal and were on their second cups of tea. 

“So, Adam…” she started, tentatively. 

“Yes, Berna?” 

“How long have you known Duncan and Joe?” She asked, gathering their plates and mugs and placing them on the coffee table so they’d have more room. 

From her tone and the way her hand had migrated to his knee once she’d finished clearing, that wasn’t precisely what she wanted to ask. But he wouldn’t push, he’d go along with it for now…

“Joe I’ve known for about ten years, long before he opened the bar. He used to have a book store. But MacLeod… only a couple of years.” Methos took his cue from her, sliding closer to her, his own hand moving to her thigh. 

It was then he noticed just how well defined and smooth her legs were. Not that he should be surprised; she _did_ train with MacLeod multiple times a week. 

She nodded. “Martial arts training as exercise.” 

He blinked, his mind catching up to the sudden change in subject. Martial arts as exercise… she was talking about how she met MacLeod. 

“I needed a way to build my confidence,” she continued, and laid a hand on her stomach over the terry cloth, mostly for something to do with her other hand. “And being in the dojo every day for a year did it.”

“Is confidence the reason we’re sitting so close together?” He knew it wasn’t, but still took his hand off her thigh (noticing her gasp slightly at the loss of contact), put a pillow at one end of the couch and laid down on his side. 

Berna didn’t need a spoken invitation. She curled in beside him and placed his arms exactly where she wanted them to be. She sighed, and melted into his embrace as silence filled the room.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve thanked you.”

“What for?”

“You didn’t have to do all this for me,” she started. “Especially after that horrible meltdown I had.”

“What horrible meltdown?” He meant for it to be a nonchalant response. In any case, he’d seen much worse.

“Throwing up in the bathroom and then screaming after how my things were left in the parking lot.”

“Berna…” he dropped his chin and whispered in her ear. “Considering that only happened a few hours ago, I’m not surprised you reacted the way you did. All in all, that’s pretty tame.”

“It’s still a bit embarrassing.”

“Not so. Remember, you’ve had a shock. Losing everything you thought you had in one night is enough to knock anyone on their ass. You might still be coming down from it.”

“That’s true, too,” she answered, and goosebumps erupted on her skin. “Let me up, please? I think I’m going to go brush my teeth again and head to bed.”

He sat up. “Once you’re done, come back out and I’ll show you the guest room.”

She smiled in response and made her way to the bathroom. Once the door closed, he shook his head and got up to clear away the plates and mugs sitting empty on the coffee table. 

ooOoo

 _Well that’s just great,_ Berna seethed at herself as she grabbed the toothbrush and toothpaste out of the holder. _Of course I meet someone as handsome as Adam Pierson a few hours after getting dumped and all I can think of is how much he turns me on._

It wasn’t as though she’d _actually_ go through with it, she reasoned. He was simply giving her a place to sleep for the night. Especially now that she didn’t have a home to go back to. Why risk it? 

She ran the water briefly to soften the toothpaste and stuck the toothbrush in her mouth. Thirty second intervals, up, down, and around her mouth, hoping that the repetitive motions would take her mind off just how shit out of luck she was at the moment. Her entire life was crammed into the four garbage bags currently sitting in Adam Pierson’s living room. Thank God she’d sent her books and some other irreplaceable things back to her parents’ house a few months before. 

At least she wasn’t down a mine, as her mother would say whenever she complained. 

Right, that wasn’t much consolation. She finished brushing, rinsed her mouth, and found floss and mouthwash in the same cabinet that she’d found the toothbrush and toothpaste. Once she’d finished, she took a look at herself in the mirror and sighed. No use in stalling.

Back out by the living room, she could hear Adam letting the water out of the sink for the dishes. 

“Since you cooked and washed the dishes, I’ll dry them if you like?”

“Ah, but see? That’s the beauty of a dish drying rack. No need.” He smiled at her. “Let me show you to the guest room.”

He led her back down the hall to the second bedroom right next to his, where there was a fresh towel waiting for her on the bed. She could see everything was freshly laundered and had been recently changed. Rows of books lined the bookshelf on one side of the room, with a desk and a lamp on the other.

“It doubles as my office while I’m working,” Adam offered as she turned to look at him, her mouth agape.

“This is gorgeous,” she breathed. “Are all these books yours?”

“Yes,” he nodded and quietly put a hand around her shoulder, gauged her reaction. She leaned into it, her arm going around his waist in response. “Some have been accumulated throughout my travels, some from work, others from friends who wanted a place to store them and never had a chance to come back for them…”

“Gorgeous…” Berna repeated, letting the silence settle around them momentarily.

“Before you’re away for sleep,” Adam started. “I’ve got a washer and dryer in the apartment.”

“You do?” 

He nodded. “I’ve put a load of laundry through already, but we could put yours through overnight? So everything is fresh for tomorrow.”

“That’s the nicest thing I’ve heard all day,” Berna’s smile reached her eyes. “Where’s the washer?”

They turned together, as though dancing, and went back out into the hallway. Next to the linen cupboard stood a stacked washer and dryer.

Berna blinked and realized how foolish she must have looked. In awe of a washer and dryer, for God’s sake! She cleared her throat and let go of Adam, loathe to do so. 

“I can’t tell you what this means to me,” she managed.

Adam turned and gently cupped her cheek. “It doesn’t cost me anything to be kind.”

Berna felt her eyes close and the butterflies in her stomach at his touch. How could he convey so much in such a simple gesture?

Suddenly very brave, Berna craned her neck upward and touched her lips to Adam’s.

His lips were soft, yielding. She pulled back, surprised at her bravery. 

Adam simply waited, his hand still on her cheek, his thumb stroking just under her eye.

“I think I’ve just lit the blue touch paper.” Berna whispered. 

Adam chuckled warmly, and touched his lips to hers again. More demanding this time, licking along her bottom lip.

She moaned, putting an arm around the back of Adam’s head and pulling him closer. She could feel the butterflies increasing in the pit of her stomach, a coil of heat starting to build. 

Then, for reasons her fogged brain couldn’t understand at that moment, Adam pulled away. 

“Laundry should go in if we have any chance of getting anything finished tonight,” he turned around and opened the top of the washer. “Do you wash light and dark laundry separately?”

What? Berna sighed in frustration and ran a hand down her face. Seeing no other recourse, she simply picked up the clothing that had come out of the first bag and brought it over. Silently, she put everything in and accepted the bottle of liquid laundry soap, pouring a capful into the machine and closing the lid. Putting the cap back on the bottle, she watched as Adam turned the dial and pulled, starting the wash cycle. 

They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, she spoke. 

“Thank you, Adam, truly,” she repeated her earlier sentiment. “I don’t know what I would have done without all three of you tonight.” She closed the gap between them and kissed his cheek. “I’ll say good night, and see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Berna,” he whispered, and Berna felt her insides melt at the thought of Adam’s eyes on her back. Still frustrated, she closed the door and got under the blankets, still wrapped in Adam’s dressing gown, trying to get warm. No matter how far she burrowed, however, she still couldn’t stop shaking. 

There was a knock at the door a few minutes later. 

“Hello the door,” she managed through the shivers under the blanket. 

The handle turned and Adam’s silhouette appeared. “Just came to see if you needed anything before I headed off myself.”

“I can’t get warm,” she answered, and she was sure he could hear her teeth chattering from the doorway.

She saw him nod from the shadows. “Can I come in?”

“Please do,” Berna answered. Whatever happened tonight, she was grateful for Adam Pierson. “I’m so cold.”

Adam approached the bed and sat on the edge. As she moved over and made room, he laid down beside her under the blanket and pulled her close, big spoon to little spoon. 

With his body curled around hers and his arms resting underneath her breasts, the shaking slowed. Berna heard herself sigh.

“Would you stay here with me tonight, Adam?” She asked, screwing up her courage once again. 

“Anything you want, Berna,” he shifted slightly. 

In truth, she wanted more. Much more. Adam smelled of soap and mint toothpaste, and… was that a faint trace of wood smoke? 

She sighed once again, pulled the blanket off, and moved his arms just enough so she could sit up and undo the belt on the dressing gown, exposing her breasts to the suddenly chilly air in the room. “What if I told you that I _did_ want something?” Oh God, she could _feel_ his eyes on her back. “And then asked if you wanted it as well?”

The mattress shifted, and a few moments later, Berna found herself sitting between Adam’s legs, his thighs exerting gentle pressure to keep her in place where she sat on the bed. 

“Depends on what it is,” his hands started on her thighs, moving up her torso and to her breasts. Long fingers splayed over the flesh, his palms against her nipples as he planted a loud kiss on her neck, a sound promising pleasure, should she ask.

English words failed her, and instead, a question in the tongue of her birth came out of her mouth. 

Adam chuckled, a warm sound in her ear. “Now, my Irish is a little rusty, Berna,” he kissed her just below her jawline. “But I think you just said ‘please.’”

“Uh huh.”

“Please what?” He growled as he cupped her breasts, creating goosebumps.

“Please touch me…”

“Ah, but I _am_ touching you…” licked around the shell of her ear and pinched her nipple.

“No, no…” she rocked against him, trying to create the friction that Adam Pierson was so far denying her. “Further… further down…” 

“Oh, I see…” Adam moved his hand off Berna’s breast, and down between her legs, teasing her thighs apart. His fingers quickly found her clit, and lightly pinched. “Like that?”

Berna moaned low in her throat and rocked against Adam’s fingers. “More,” she begged, throwing her head back. “Please, Adam, I need more.”

“So impatient…” And suddenly he stopped, pulled his hand away, and got up from the bed. “Stay just like that for me...”

 _Jesus Christ,_ that wasn’t fair! Not when she was so wound up and couldn’t see what he was doing. Even though he wasn’t sitting behind her, keeping her still anymore, she felt frozen in place. Oh God, she could _hear_ him moving in the low light…

Every breath and movement they made echoed throughout the room. Berna sighed as she heard him pull his shirt over his head, the garment landing in the laundry basket with a dull _thud_. Good. He had too many clothes on; it wasn’t fair that she was completely naked and he hadn’t even taken his shirt off. 

Adam came around the bed and back into her line of sight, shirt gone but still in jeans and his belt threaded through the loops. Holy _fuck._ He was lean; all well defined, sinew-y muscle.

And he was looking at her like she was the most perfect woman he’d ever seen. 

Berna crooked her finger at him as he got to his knees in front of her. He stared at her for a long moment, taking her in.

“Has anyone ever told you…” oh _God,_ his fingers were leaving trails of goosebumps on her thighs. “That you’re beautiful, Berna?” 

“Not like _this,_ ” she breathed as Adam pried her thighs a little further apart, teasing the soft skin he found there. 

“Mmm, it’s true,” his voice was husky; as though he were afraid of breaking the spell that had been cast over the room. “Especially in the way the light through the curtain plays off your skin and your eyes…” she felt his fingers moving further down, still teasing. 

His fingers slowly circled over-sensitized flesh, and Berna gasped as he slipped one finger, then another into her.

She reached down and stayed his hand. 

“ _Yes, there,”_ she managed, leaning forward to kiss him. She could see he was listening, and did as she asked. And slowly, very slowly, she began to rock. 

She moved as though her body didn’t belong to her anymore. The coil of heat that had been there earlier was building again, and Adam Pierson was _still_ looking at her in awe. 

“So sexy, Berna, fucking yourself on my hand...” he breathed as she continued to rock, faster this time. “Look at you, so beautiful…”

He heard her breath hitch, her body responding. Ah, so she liked being praised. Perfect. “Yes, that’s it. More?”

Berna managed to nod, her thighs trying to close over his hand, keeping him exactly where she wanted him.

“Not yet, Berna,” Adam admonished her, using his thumb to put pressure on her clit. 

_Fuck, that was good._ Words once again failed her, yet there was still something missing.

“Tell me what you need…”

Incapable of speech beyond one or two syllables, she moved her free hand and curled her fingers in a “come hither” motion. “Deep,” she managed through the fog in her head. 

“Your wish is my command.” He mimicked the gesture.

“Oh _fuck!”_ Berna rocked even faster, the coil of heat in her belly building to near fever pitch as Adam’s fingers curled inside her, stroking. 

Suddenly Adam’s mouth joined his fingers in creating the sensations coursing through her body, his other hand cupping and massaging her breast. Just the right side of too much, but not enough.

“You’re so close…” she heard him whisper when he paused for a moment, his voice pure sex. “So close, Berna. Let me see you.”

She moaned despite herself, warmth spreading through her belly and electricity sparking its way to the tips of her fingers and toes….

And then the world exploded in shards of colour. Forcing herself to open her eyes, she saw Adam’s free hand had moved from her breast to palm the front of his jeans, his own breathing ragged. She bit down on her lip, trying to keep quiet.

“Don’t you _dare,”_ Adam commanded , stroking hard and fast. _Fuck!_ This was so good. She’d needed this so badly. “Loud as you want, Berna. Let me hear you…”

She did, her own voice unrecognizable through the ringing in her ears. 

Finally, after too short a time, Berna felt herself go limp. She gripped the end of the blanket, balancing as Adam kissed along her thigh and gentled her onto the bed. 

Berna watched his movements, pushing herself backward to the headboard and pillows as he crawled back up the mattress to join her, and kissed him. 

“Wow…” she managed.

Adam smiled, wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled the blanket back over them. “That, Berna, was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

“No one has ever made me come that hard,” she admitted, curling up close. “My ears are still ringing.”

“That’s how it _should_ be,” he told her, kissed her forehead. “Your pleasure should always come first, Berna Gordon.”

She sighed contentedly, letting the silence fill the room for a moment. 

“What about you?” She asked, a hand on Adam’s chest. “I saw your hand against your jeans. I can’t leave you out. Not after _that._ ”

“Oh I’m not left out,” he insisted. “Not at all. Besides, tonight wasn’t about me.”

“No?”

“Nope,” he grinned at her. “You needed, and so I gave.”

“So this was generosity?”

“More pleasure than generosity,” he answered. “And fun, if I’m honest.”

“Fun,” Berna agreed. “Most definitely fun.”

Just as they settled back into the pillows and blankets, the washing machine buzzed.

It was too funny. Of course the machine would finish its wash cycle just as she was getting comfortable. 

“We shouldn’t leave it as it is,” Berna whispered in the dark. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have anything to wear tomorrow morning.”

“And what a shame that would be,” Adam chuckled. “You shouldn’t have to keep yourself covered up if you don’t want to.”

“Pot meet kettle,” she countered. “You’re just as handsome yourself, you know.” Sitting up, she allowed herself a few moments before swinging her legs out from under the blanket. “Hell, if I could be naked all the livelong day, I would, but it’s generally frowned upon to go out in public without a stitch of clothing on.”

“How unfortunate,” he purred. “I’ll show you how to work the dryer. It can be a little finicky to start if you’ve never used it before.”

“Fair enough,” she leaned in for a kiss, snaked a hand across his lap and gently cupped him as he sat up, eliciting a gasp. “Once we’ve done that, I’ll make a pit stop to the washroom. Then, I want to come back in here, and let you have your turn.”

Adam grinned wickedly.

ooOoo

After showering and having breakfast the next morning, Methos and Berna made their way back to Joe’s. The place was deserted early in the morning, but that was to be expected at 9am. Besides, what better time to get inventory done?

He still didn’t know how Joe had gotten both himself and Berna to agree. Hell, he wasn’t even an employee. Although, now that he thought about it, he shouldn’t have been surprised; Berna was employed as a full-time bartender, and Methos simply liked hanging out in bars when he wasn’t completely bogged down with research and writing reports to keep his cover with the Watchers. Doing inventory was a good change of pace.

They walked in the door to see Joe putting on a pot of coffee, the dim lighting gradually growing brighter as he flipped the switches. 

“Morning, Joe,” Berna greeted him.

Joe turned around and smiled. “Morning, Berna. You’re certainly looking better.” 

“Feeling much better, thanks,” she nodded. “Who else is coming in this morning?”

“Just us chickens, it looks like,” Methos supplied. “And maybe the cleaners?”

“Nah, they were here late last night. Did a deep clean of the whole place.”

“Looks absolutely lovely,” Berna chuckled. “So, just us, then. Where am I starting?”

“Do you wanna check the lines? And maybe bring anything that’s in the back of the cooler forward.”

“Cool…” she grabbed a clipboard and disappeared behind the bar.

There were sounds of bottles clinking and being moved as Berna cleared out the mini fridge. Methos poured himself a cup of coffee while Berna’s pen scratched along the paper on her clipboard.

“Hey, you know something? That’s a shame.”

“What’s a shame?” Methos could hear the lift in her voice. 

“Someone went and threw out a perfectly good bottle of ginger beer,” she put it on the bar without standing up. “Still sealed. I might drink that later.”

Methos narrowed his eyes at Joe. “Since when do you carry ginger beer? And why is it behind the bar?”

“You can’t tell me you’ve never had ginger beer to settle an upset stomach. Or in a Moscow Mule?” Berna asked as her pen continued moving along the paper. “Let’s see what you’ve got here, line number one...”

“Too many times, which explains why I’ve lost my taste for it.”

Suddenly he felt that familiar Buzz in his head. Always difficult to tell friend from foe, Methos jumped slightly and looked toward the door.

MacLeod had arrived with two others in tow. One looked remarkably distinguished, dressed in a button down shirt and cotton pants, and another who looked to be Berna’s clone.

“Hey, uh, Berna? You here?”

“Under the bar, Duncan!” She called. “Okay, _that_ line is clear. Just eight more to go.”

“ _Bernadine…”_ the man standing with Duncan beckoned. 

Slowly, Berna’s head emerged from behind the bar, like something you’d see in a romantic comedy and the leads were meeting for the first time. Her eyes went wide, and a smile crossed her features. 

“ _Daddy!”_ She leapt over the bar and, against all odds, landed on her feet. Joe would have to wipe down and sanitize it later, he was sure. No sooner had Berna righted herself did she jump into her father’s arms. “ _Mammy!_ How’d you find me?”

Methos, Duncan, and Joe watched in silent curiosity as Berna and her parents conversed in a mixture of rapid Irish and French. From what he could gather, they’d called the apartment she’d shared with… was his name David? Yes, David. And when David had told them that she’d moved out but hadn’t left a forwarding address, they’d gotten worried and come to Joe’s, where both Duncan and Joe had reassured them that Berna was safe with Methos for the night. Of course, they’d called him Adam Pierson, but had also advised them that they should come back to the bar in the morning. When things had calmed down, they said. 

“I’m sorry, Mammy,” she hung her head slightly. 

At this point, all three men found other things to do around the bar to give them a bit of privacy. 

“Listen to me, child,” Methos heard Berna’s mother whisper. “I would rather you move home after a failed relationship than you come home to me in a pine box. I’ve had too much of that already.”

A cold knot settled in Methos’ stomach as he wiped down a table.

“I understand. But I gave you such grief over him. Now that’s six years of my life I’ll never get back.”

“Sometimes the right thing to do is walking away. Besides, it is not your fault he was unfaithful,” her father told her. “Now where is this Adam Pierson Duncan spoke about? I’d like to shake his hand.”

He caught Berna’s eye as she turned around. “Adam?”

In this case, he’d come when called. He folded the cloth and placed it in the sink behind the bar as he passed. He smiled at both her parents as he approached.

“Hello, hello,” he greeted them and extended his hand. “Adam Pierson.”

“Johannes Gordon,” her father took the offered hand. “And my wife…”

“Michelle,” she offered. “But please, none of that ‘Mrs. Gordon’ nonsense. Call me Michelle.”

“I will, thank you, Michelle,” Adam answered. “I can see where Berna gets it from. Did anyone ever tell you that you’ve cloned yourself?”

Michelle blushed, and Berna suppressed a chuckle. 

“How can I thank you for looking after our Berna yesterday?”

“No thanks needed,” Methos bent and kissed her hand. “It is not an imposition to help someone in need.”

He could almost hear Duncan’s eyes rolling toward the back of his head.

“All the same, Mr. Pierson…”

“Ah,” he held up a hand. “Adam, please.”

“Adam,” Michelle corrected herself. “Won’t you accept a grateful mother’s invitation to dinner in thanks?”

“Uh…” he caught himself, looking to Berna for a hint. “Really, I couldn’t, Michelle. As I said, there’s no thanks needed.”

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s impolite to refuse an invitation?” In fact, she had done (at least he thought so), but Michelle and Johannes had no way of knowing that had been over 5,000 years ago. “Besides, I’m making a proper shepherd’s pie.”

He turned his head slightly to both see Duncan and Joe with shit-eating grins on their faces, and Berna clearly not going to be of any help. 

“In that case, Michelle, dinner would be lovely.” Methos could see he had no choice. 

“ _Brilliant!”_ She exerted gentle pressure on his hand. “Dinner is at 8:00.”

“Eight o’clock it is,” he agreed. 

“You too,” Johannes nodded toward MacLeod and Joe. “There’s more than enough room, and Michelle always cooks enough so there’s no leftovers.”

“We’ll be there, thank you Johannes,” MacLeod answered. He knew better than to refuse, no thanks to his stubborn nature.

“Perfect. See all four of you at eight,” Michelle let go of Methos’ hands and kissed his cheek before moving to hug Berna goodbye. 

A few minutes later, they departed, and Methos was left with confusion and Berna sitting on the floor laughing hysterically, trying to catch her breath. 

“What’s the joke?”

“I…” Berna hiccuped. “I’m so sorry, Adam. I didn’t expect her to invite you to dinner. I can call them later and try to get all three of you out of it.”

“Why?” Joe asked. “It’s a nice gesture, and the thought of a shepherd’s pie that’s not frozen and out of a box is much better than the leftovers I was planning to heat up tonight.”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not every day someone’s mother invites us all to dinner.”

“Stranger things have happened.” Methos agreed. “Although I’m curious about something, Berna.”

“What’s that?” She went back behind the bar and disappeared under the counter, no doubt checking another line. 

“Johannes is not an Irish name.”

“Neither is Bernadine,” she answered, and grunted as she no doubt moved down the length of the counter. “No. My dad is a native French speaker, so he insisted that my name have _some_ French connection.”

“Oh yeah?” Joe kept the conversation going. “So where did your dad grow up?”

“Romandy,” she pushed herself up and reappeared at the corner. “But until he was fifteen, he lived in Paris in a monastery. He mentioned it a few times. Apparently, and I say that because I don’t really remember, he and my mum took me to visit when I was around two. St. Joseph’s, on the Rue St. Jacques.”

Methos saw MacLeod’s eyes go wide. He had a sneaking suspicion why, but they’d get to that later. 

“So, he grew up speaking French and Italian, and he started learning English at school just before he moved.” She brushed the hair that had fallen out of her hair tie out of her face. “My mum spoke English and had to learn Irish secretly at home. Speaking Irish in public in Belfast had terrible repercussions.” Berna paused for a moment. “Anyway, she started learning French after she met my dad.”

“Is that why you’re so fluent?” MacLeod asked. 

“Spoke French and Irish at home and English at school,” she shook her head, pulled the hair tie out of her hair and fixed her ponytail. “I also learned the beginning dance steps at home. Once I got a bit older, my parents somehow found an Irish dance school, and I spent all my time there.”

“Irish dance? You mean like _Riverdance,_ and _Lord of the Dance?”_ Joe asked.

“Yes, but the style has been around for a lot longer. Those shows helped bring it international recognition. And so they should have it. They’ve earned it.” Berna could feel herself getting excited over discussing a new art form. “Aside from dancing, it was a lot of fun cursing the people who bullied me for it in French, and one day I had enough, so I punched the leader in the face. Broke his nose.”

Joe’s eyes went wide. “I had no idea you’d ever broken anyone’s nose.”

“Yeah, well, he deserved it. And he left me alone after that,” she grabbed her clipboard and disappeared behind the counter once again. “Also, Joe, I’ll be needing to change my address in my employee file soon.”

“Where are you staying?” he took note of the sudden change of subject, and made his way over to the stage to check the lighting.

“Not so sure yet. I might move back with my parents for a bit, until I can find a new place.” She scribbled noisily on her clipboard before standing back up.

“You know, you _could_ stay with me if you wanted.”

The room went so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

“For a couple of days,” he added hastily. “It won’t do to have you without a home.”

“That’s… very generous of you, Adam,” MacLeod started.

“I’m not _completely_ heartless, you know,” he joined Berna behind the bar and helped himself to one of the ginger beers Berna had been counting. “Subtract one ginger beer from your count, Berna.”

“Two if you count the one I already claimed,” she tapped her pen on the bottle cap. “Alright, under the bar is all accounted for, and four of the nine lines are clear. I’ll do the others a little later. Time to empty the cooler…” she turned her back to Duncan and Joe, while Methos very gently snaked an arm around her waist. 

“Do you want some help counting?” He whispered in her ear. 

Berna jumped slightly at his touch. “Do that again and I might just drag you into the back room.”

Joe cleared his throat loudly. 

“Should MacLeod and me go somewhere else and leave you two alone?”

Berna bumped Methos slightly with her hip, and he let go of her. “I think you’re safe, Joe. Having sex while on duty is generally frowned upon. And you should never have sex in a bar if you can help it.”

MacLeod snorted and choked on air, while Joe chuckled.

“Are you speaking from personal experience?” MacLeod sputtered.

Doltish question.

“Yep. It was extraordinarily disappointing,” Berna shrugged. And that was it. No ifs, ands, or buts. Methos could see Berna was confident in her approach to sex, and that was a massive turn on. “Anyway, Joe? Where do you want me after I finish with the cooler?”

“Glasses and cleaning supplies. And Adam?”

“Yes, Joe?”

“Eight bucks for the two ginger beers.”

“On my tab, if you would.”

Joe snorted this time. “As though I’ll ever see that money again.”

Berna rolled her eyes and reached into her jeans pocket, producing a ten dollar bill. “I took the first one, so here you are. Change is yours.”

“Thank you, Berna,” Joe went over to the register and made a point of entering in the purchase. “That’ll be the start of today, especially since I’ll be calling Mike in to cover the place tonight, and the four of us heading to your parents’ house for dinner tonight.”

“Oh Lord…” Berna whacked the clipboard off her forehead. “I still can’t believe that they roped you all in.” She sighed and brought the clipboard back down. “Once we’re finished here, I’ll have to pick up a bottle of wine from the liquor store. They are very particular about the wine they have with dinner. Especially with my mom’s shepherd’s pie.”

ooOoo

Later that night, Berna hugged Adam tightly in thanks before heading off to the spare room to sleep.

Dinner had been… she wasn’t sure if there was a word for it, other than awkward. Over shepherd’s pie, her mother had grilled Adam over his intentions, wondering why he had offered to help when he didn’t know Berna. 

Adam, the smooth talker that she was learning he was, had simply said that he had the space, and since Berna was a friend of both Duncan and Joe, he offered the guest room. He’d even repeated his offer of having her stay a few days until she could find a new apartment. 

Over lemon cake and coffee, she could see her mother tense as the phone rang. Berna put her napkin on her chair and got up to answer it. 

“Hello?”

“Hi Berna,” the voice on the other end of the phone sounded sheepish. 

Berna rolled her eyes. “What could you possibly have to say to me, David?”

“Do you want your slow cooker back?”

“You called me for that? _Of course_ I want it back. It’s a miracle in the kitchen.”

“Cause I…” he paused for a moment. “I broke it.”

“You broke it?” She asked, matter-of-factly. “ _How_ did you break it? Set it on fire?”

“I may have done,” he admitted. 

Berna let out an exasperated sigh. “You know what? Just send me the money for a new one. That’s only $75.”

“Fair enough.”

“And the money for the times you weren’t working and I covered all the bills.”

David was silent on the other end. “I don’t owe you anything more than the $75, _whore.”_

Well, _that_ escalated quickly.

“Oh, _whore,_ is it?” She spat once she’d recovered from her momentary shock. “In that case, my rate just went up. $360,000 please.”

“ _What?”_

“That’s my rate for my services, David. $60,000 for every year we were together. In case you’ve forgotten how to do simple math, six years times $60,000 a year is $360,000. I’ll take a cheque or money order.”

“I don’t have that kind of money.”

“You don’t? Aww, too bad. It really would be a shame for me to have to take you to court for wages owed. You know, since I’m such a whore.”

David choked. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. You’re not a whore.”

“I know,” Berna answered forcefully. “So, you pay me back for the months I covered all the bills, and then we’ll call it even. Then we lose each other’s numbers and don’t have to see or speak to each other again.”

“That’s fair.” There was a rustling sound that seemed to mean he was nodding. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like you did. I meant for us to sit down and talk things out. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“David, there’s no way to end a long term relationship without someone’s heart breaking,” Berna wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “If you weren’t happy, why didn’t you just _say_ so?”

“Because I’m a coward, Berna,” he answered. “I’m a coward and I couldn’t tell you any other way.”

She wondered if it hurt him physically to admit to it. She hoped so. “I appreciate you telling me the truth,” she sniffed. 

“I’ll send a cheque in the mail to your parents’ house tomorrow.”

“Understood. If it’s not here in a couple of days, I will call. But other than that…”

“I know. Goodbye, Berna.”

“Goodbye, David.”

She hung up the phone and turned to see Adam standing in the doorframe. 

“The Whore of Babylon, _a votre service,_ ” she sighed audibly and shook her head before bowing theatrically. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect that phone call to take as long as it did.” She stood up straight and blinked. “Are Joe and Duncan okay out there?”

“They’re fine. Your father has them discussing nautical voyages all around the world…” Adam closed the gap between the two of them. “How about you? Are _you_ okay?”

“Oh sure. Being called a whore and then hearing an apology and the offer of a cheque in the mail, that’s enough to give anyone cognitive dissonance,” Berna’s eyes closed as Adam’s hand cupped her cheek, and his thumb brushed lightly over her cheekbone before he pulled her in close for a hug. “Adam?”

“Mm hmm?” He murmured into her shoulder.

“I’d like to take you up on your offer to stay,” she confirmed. “I don’t think I could be alone right now.”

“I don’t think you _should_ be,” he answered. “Come on, let’s not keep them in suspense…” he pulled a tissue from the box by the phone and handed it to her. “Ready?”

“I think I’d like to go back to yours soon,” she dabbed her eyes, grabbed another tissue, turned her head and blew her nose. “I’m suddenly exhausted. All that hot food and good company.” She discarded the tissues and stopped at the sink to wash her hands. 

“Think you can handle another hour or so? I think your Mum and Dad are pretty enthralled with MacLeod’s tales of adventure.”

“Wouldn’t want to deprive them of that. Lord knows they don’t get a lot of opportunities to travel now that they’re older.” 

Adam offered her his arm, and walked with her back into the dining room.

ooOoo

Things were quiet and still the next morning, the air heavy with things left unspoken between the two of them. 

One thing that had always irked him about the apartment was that the walls between the bedrooms were very thin. As soon as she’d closed the door and gotten into bed last night, he’d heard her crying. 

Not that he blamed her. She’d had a hell of a couple of days. Even with support, losing a long term relationship and one’s home was a shock. 

He hadn’t said anything though, until she had finished in the shower and had come out to the kitchen, where he had set to making bacon and eggs.

Methos felt her wrap her arms around his waist in greeting. 

“Good morning,” she laid her cheek briefly on his back. “Something smells good.”

“Scrambled eggs on toast with sautéed bell peppers and bacon,” he pat her wrist, and she let go. “Good for what ails you.”

“It’s also my favourite breakfast,” she went to the cupboard, grabbed a mug, and poured herself a cup of coffee. She took a sip and grimaced at the bitter taste. “Is there any milk left?”

“In the fridge. I went out quickly this morning while you were sleeping and picked up a fresh carton,” he answered as he put four pieces of bread into the toaster. Bless whoever had invented a toaster that could do four pieces of bread at once. 

Berna made her way over and found it, pouring a bit into her mug. “Oh, that’s better. You know, I usually don’t have such a big meal, unless it’s…” she stopped, and chuckled at the realization. “How did you know?”

“While you were on the phone yesterday,” he turned the stove off and and divided the eggs and peppers onto two plates. “Your mother mentioned that today was your birthday.” He gave each plate two pieces of bacon and brought them over to the table. “Toast will be ready in a minute. Sit yourself down and I’ll join you.”

Berna did as he asked, taking another sip of her coffee. 

“What’s this?” She asked, picking up the neatly wrapped package waiting on the table for her.

“It’s your birthday gift.”

From the look on her face, it had been a _long_ time since she’d been given a birthday gift. “Oh Adam,” she breathed, fingertips over her mouth in surprise. “Can I open it?” 

“Of course you can,” he came over to the table with four slices of buttered toast on a separate plate. 

He watched as Berna gently lifted the tape and unwrapped a box that contained a sewing kit, complete with 24 different colours of thread, according to the box.

“This is beautiful…” she gasped. “I’ve been wanting a new sewing kit for years.” She picked the box up and examined it. “How did you…”

Methos smiled, laying a finger alongside his nose. “No one should feel forgotten on their birthday, especially after the week you’ve had.”

A smile flashed across her face as she folded the wrapping paper and set the gift on the floor. Silence settled as they sat together, sipping their coffee and stealing glances at each other. 

“How can I thank you for this?”

“You don’t need to,” he insisted, setting his mug down. 

“I know, but I _want_ to. I haven’t had a birthday this nice in a long time.”

He thought that might be the case, although he wouldn’t say it out loud.

“In that case,” his voice was warm as he laid a hand over hers. “You can thank me however you wish.”

He watched as she got out of her chair and leaned across the table, and kissed him loudly. 

“Thank you, Adam,” she whispered as she pulled away slightly, then wrapped her arms around him in a hug. 

“Happy Birthday, Berna,” he whispered in response. He sighed as she settled in his lap, her weight warm and welcome. In truth, he was tempted to suggest they forget about breakfast completely and go back to bed. 

He didn’t need to suggest it. The way she was looking at him told him all he needed to know. Methos kissed her again, braced his hands on her hips, and slowly stood up.

She wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her back to his bedroom. Breakfast could wait. 

ooOoo

Later, tangled in sheets and blankets, Berna awoke with her head on Adam’s chest. He was warm, but not so great a pillow. 

Berna reached up and stroked his cheek as they both caught their breath. 

“Soft,” she whispered.

“Hmm?” Adam turned his head slightly. 

“Your cheek, it’s soft…” she repeated. 

“Mmm…” Adam kissed her soundly and settled into the bed beside her. “Did I say happy birthday?”

A laugh bubbled up as Berna pushed the blanket off almost as soon as he’d pulled them up. “You did. And thank you.”

“You said that too.”

Berna burrowed in close as Adam put an arm around her shoulder. 

“You know what would make today even better?”

“What’s that?”

“This idea I have. But before I tell you, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Would you object to spending the whole day in this bed with me?”

“I would not object to that at all.” It had been years since he’d been offered the opportunity to stay in bed all day.

“Okay. So my idea is also a question. What would you say if I said that making love to you all day would be my idea of paradise, starting with me straddling your face?”

Methos rolled over onto his side to face her. “I’d say the same as I did earlier, Bernadine Gordon.”

“And what’s that?”

“I believe I said ‘ _a votre service, mademoiselle.’”_

It was Berna’s turn to grin wickedly, moving to the side of the bed, sighing in contentment as he got himself comfortable, let her get settled, and set to his work.

The sound of her moaning rang loudly throughout the bedroom as she threaded her hands through his hair, grabbed, and kept his head in place. 

It was a good day.

ooOoo

When Berna walked into Joe’s alone the next morning, Joe couldn’t help but notice that she was practically floating. Not his business _why,_ however. 

But, combine the fact that Methos could be incredibly charming, the fact that she was staying with him, _and_ the punch drunk grin on her face… well, he could add two and two together to make four. 

Not to mention the slight bite mark and discolouration on her neck that she hadn’t been able to hide with her top. But, as he’d thought before, not his business. 

“Okay, yeah…” he said into the phone. “No, no, don’t worry about it. If you’re sick, stay home.” He looked up at Berna as he listened to the other voice down the other end. “Nah, we’ll be okay. We can figure something out.”

Once he hung up, she heard him sigh.

“What’s up, Joe?”

“The act I booked for tonight, he’s down with the flu and barely has any voice left,” he looked over at her. “I guess I could be on stage but that leaves you behind the bar alone for a while. Mike’s not in until the middle of the shift.”

“I could be on stage for a little bit,” she offered. “I mean, I haven’t really played guitar in a few years but I don’t think I’m _terrible._ ”

“You play guitar?”

“Lessons since I was five,” Berna shrugged. “And singing since I was eight. I stopped doing both a few years ago, because of David. He didn’t like it for some stupid reason, but anyway, my guitar is at my parents’ house. I can go pick it up before I sign in if you like.”

“Why don’t you try mine out?” Joe offered, walking out toward the stockroom and bringing out the case. “It’s a little older but it should suit.”

“Really?” 

Joe saw her eyes light up as he handed the case to her. “Yeah, sure. Try it out, see how it feels in your hands.”

Berna brought the case over to the stage and sat down on the stool, hoisting the guitar on her leg and plucking at the strings. She played a few chords, adjusted the tuning. Starting again, he heard the beginning chords of that new song that had recently started playing on the radio. _You’re a God_ or something similar to that. He wasn’t sure how well it would fit into the rotation of songs that were usually played in the bar, but Berna seemed to have a natural ear for the notes and melody. It _sounded_ right, from the few times he’d heard it. Maybe she’d bought the single and had listened to it several times to hear it as she did.

Joe heard her singing the notes under her breath, possibly just to get the feel and rhythm. As she grew more confident in the empty bar, her voice got louder just as she belted out the ending lyrics.

 _Cause you’re a God, and_ _I am not_

_And I just thought that you would know_

_You’re a God, and I am not_

_And I just thought I’d let you go_

She’d been so wrapped up in the music that she hadn’t even noticed that he’d moved back behind the bar and was restocking the glasses.

“Yeah, that’s got a good feel and weight to it,” she got off the stool and took the guitar off her shoulder. “Thank you, Joe. Are you sure you want me playing in here tonight? As you said, Mike’s not in until the middle of the shift. Won’t you be short handed?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I’m not expecting it to be too busy tonight. It’s only Wednesday, after all.”

Berna shook her head. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll, um… I’ll call my Dad and see if he can bring my guitar from the house.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. You can use mine for tonight,” he insisted as she wiped down and put the guitar back in its case. “You’re good, you know.”

“A little rusty. Like I said, I haven’t played in a few years.”

“If that’s what you sound like a few years out of practice, then who knows how good you would have become if you’d worked on it daily.” He smiled and wiped the last glass with a dish towel.

“Ah well, I can't do anything about that now.” Berna went back behind the bar to join him. “What’s on the go for today?”

“Nothing really until tonight. Apparently it was really quiet last night so Mike finished doing inventory. Do you want to keep practicing with the guitar? Duncan is at the dojo and I guess Adam’s out and about somewhere.”

“He was home when I left the apartment this morning. Said he had some things to take care of before he stopped by.”

Joe nodded. “And how’s that working out for you?”

“Staying with Adam, you mean? It’s only been two days, but so far so good,” she shrugged. “I’m staying in the spare bedroom, and it’s quite comfortable. We’re not in each other’s faces all the time.”

“That’s good,” he tried his best to keep his tone neutral. “Does that mean I’m changing the address in your employment file to his?”

“Nah, don’t count your chickens just yet,” she answered. “I’ve got an apartment viewing early this afternoon, since I wasn’t expecting you to need me in. Adam’s offered to meet me there, just to see if it’s worth it at its price.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Joe nodded. “You know, I think he’s taken a bit of a shine to you.”

Berna smiled at him, then shrugged. “Don’t see why. I’m just Berna. I’m no one special.” 

“Ordinary people are actually giants among men,” the door opened as Methos walked in the door, hands in his coat pockets. 

“Hey Adam.”

“Hey Joe,” he greeted, taking his coat off and hanging it up before sitting down at the bar. “Could I get a beer, please?”

“It’s eleven in the morning,” Joe pointed out.

“And here we are in a bar. What a coincidence!” he answered, clapped his hands once as Joe rolled his eyes and poured the pint.

“Never let it be said that I don’t do things for people.”

“I never said that, did I?” Methos took a sip of the beer and smiled at them both. “Oh, that’s precisely what I needed…”

From the corner of the bar, he heard Berna taking the guitar back out of the case and starting another song, one he’d never heard before. Admittedly, he didn’t start really listening until nearly the end of the song, but the lyrics seemed to echo throughout the bar.

_Maybe redemption has stories to tell_

_Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell_

_Where can you run to escape from yourself?_

_Where you gonna go?_

_Where you gonna go?_

_Salvation is here_

She held the last long note on ‘here’, while still playing, and that’s when Joe noticed the look on Methos’ face as he stared at her, mouth open in shock.

_I dare you to move_

_I dare you to move_

_I dare you to lift yourself_

_To lift yourself up off the floor_

_I dare you to move_

_I dare you to move_

_Like today never happened_

_Today never happened_

_Today never happened before_

She finished and put the guitar back in its case, oblivious to the shock on Methos’ face. Although how much of that was put on, he couldn’t tell. Methos had probably seen and heard everything there was to be heard in his life, and yet here he was looking in awe of a woman he’d only just met a few days ago. He looked like he’d been hit by a bolt of lightning.

Shades of Alexa all over again.

Although Berna wasn’t dying in this instance. She was simply homeless at the moment, and in need of a friend.

“Did you write that?” Joe asked the question hanging in the air,

“Which? The second song?”

He nodded.

“Oh no,” she shook her head vigorously. “No. I’m not that talented. I was in the record shop and saw CD’s by two artists that I hadn’t heard of before and decided to give them a try.” She rattled off their names in case either of them had heard of them. “Good thing I did, because I really like their songs.”

Methos blinked. “Why didn’t you say anything about either singing or playing guitar?”

Berna shrugged. “No one asked.” She picked up the guitar case and cocked her eyebrows at Joe.

“Just in the back,” he answered her unspoken question. 

“Okay…” she turned and held the stockroom door open with her shoulder. “Thanks again, Joe. It felt amazing to have an instrument in my hands again.” she disappeared through the door, leaving both men to sit in silence, should they wish it.

ooOoo

When she reemerged, Methos had finished his drink and was simply staring at the stage.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked him as she grabbed a cloth and wiped down the sink. In truth, she’d never seen him so contemplative before.

“Not worth that much at the moment,” he insisted as he tapped his hands on the bar.

“Hmm…” 

“Although I did wonder something.”

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you play for over five years?”

Berna shrugged. “What time is the apartment viewing again? I had it written in my day planner but that’s in my handbag and my handbag is hanging up with my coat.”

Methos rolled up his sleeve and checked his watch. “In about an hour. We should get going now if we don’t want to be late.”

“It’s that far? It didn’t look so when I checked the map.”

“With Seacouver traffic? An hour might be cutting it close.”

“Yeah, good point,” she unfolded the cloth and hung it up to dry. “Hey, Joe?” 

Joe looked up from taking the chairs down off the table.

“Heading out?”

“For a bit. Expect me back in about two hours. Are you going to be okay?”

“Oh sure, go do what you need to do,” he waved her off.

“Thank you,” she grabbed her coat and both she and Methos went out the door. 

ooOoo

Two hours turned out to be more than enough time. Upon taking a tour of the apartment, Berna had quickly decided that it wasn’t for her. It was cramped and cold with a small window; barely enough room to swing a cat. Even though she didn’t need much space, it would still be nice to be able to move around a living space without crashing into furniture.

There was a charge in the air as they sat in traffic on the way back to Joe’s. How was it possible that so many people wanted to be going in the same direction they were at three in the afternoon? She’d never liked sitting idle with nothing to do, and sitting in traffic was one of the worst ways to spend her time. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Adam’s voice broke the silent tension that was settling between them.

“That’s my line,” she smirked at him, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. 

“And now it’s mine. I stole it,” his tone was playful as he shifted in the passenger seat. “Mine forever.”

“Forever is a long time, you know.”

“I know,” he swallowed to clear his throat, uneasy silence settled around them once again.

Berna sighed, flexed her fingers against the top of the steering wheel. “You know your question from earlier?”

“Which question?”

“About why I hadn’t played guitar or sung for five years.”

“Mmm hmm…”

She repeated her answer from earlier, when Joe had asked her the same question. David hadn’t liked it, for some stupid reason she’d never been able to understand. But, because she’d loved him, she’d simply taken the guitar back to her parents’ house and hadn’t done anything with it.

“Not my place to say anything, but…”

“I’m not going to stop you. What’s up?”

“No disrespect to you, Berna, but your ex is most certainly…”

“A douche canoe?”

Methos snorted. “I wouldn’t have put it so crudely, but yes.”

“Oh, I completely agree. Now that I’ve had a few days to process the whole thing, I can see that there wasn’t anything worth saving between David and I,” she sighed and tilted her head to the side for a moment. “Also, something tells me that catching him out a few days ago wasn’t the first time he’d ever cheated,” she sighed and hung her head slightly. “Thank whatever Gods past and present that we never had sex without contraception.”

“Sounds like you were the level-headed one.”

“Someone had to be,” she took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders. “If I hadn’t visited my doctor every three months for my birth control shot, I’m sure he would have tried something like poking holes in the condoms and trying to trap me,” she cleared her throat and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel again. “Oh good, we’re moving…”

She could only hope he couldn’t see the tears forming in the corner of her eye.

Right, and soon she’d look up and see pigs flying through the air. 

“Berna…” she heard a whisper, Adam’s hand on the driver’s side seat. “Pull over.”

 _Shit_ , he’d seen it. Sensing she had no other choice, she did as he asked and pulled over onto the shoulder. Once she put the car in park and took the key out of the ignition, her shoulders heaved as she handed him the keys. 

“Come on, let’s go to the park. Walking can help when you’re feeling this way.”

Berna could only nod as they climbed over each other awkwardly to switch seats. It would have been funny if she hadn’t been so upset. She was silent until they pulled into the parking lot and got out to start walking.

They walked along in silence for what seemed like hours, but in reality it was only about twenty minutes. Berna felt like her skin was on fire, and she wanted nothing more than to run out of her body and not exist for a while.

But no, she couldn’t do that. Never mind that it was physically impossible, she’d never outrun the hurt if she didn’t confront the feeling now. Even if she _did_ start running, Adam was faster. He’d catch her, and then her emotions would _absolutely_ get the best of her. 

Instead, the force of will it was taking to keep the slow pace they’d established radiated throughout her body, and she couldn’t stop herself from shaking.

Adam’s gentle hand on her elbow stopped her, and wordlessly, she turned to look him in the eye.

And her resolve crumbled.

“Please, just one hug?”

He pulled her close and held her as she sobbed, her shoulders heaving as she gasped for breath. The world grayed out; the only thing grounding her to the earth was Adam’s embrace. 

He held her as she fought to calm herself. No small feat, considering she couldn’t stop herself from crying. She kept her face buried in his shoulder, hiding as best she could. Adam still said nothing, just let her scream and rage and cry into his shoulder until, finally, she let go and turned away. 

“Oh Jesus Christ on a bike, I look a mess…” she wiped at her eyes with her fingers and brought her sleeve up to her nose. “Have you got a tissue?”

He dug into his coat pocket and produced a handkerchief. Regardless of the jokes he’d heard for carrying such, Berna accepted it and wiped under her nose. 

“Thank you,” she swallowed a breath of air and tried to steady herself. “Um… I’ll wash this and give it back to you.”

“There’s no rush…” he answered and offered her his arm. “Let’s head back to the apartment. You can get cleaned up, wash your face, and then we can go back to Joe’s. Fair?”

“Won’t Joe be upset that I’m not back right away?”

“At this time in the afternoon? I don’t think so. You told him you needed two hours, right?”

“Right.”

“Those two hours aren’t up yet. Still have about thirty minutes before he needs you back, and the apartment is only about a five minute drive from here.”

“Okay….”

They were back in the car and home with more than enough time to spare. 

ooOoo

Wrung out from the day’s events, Berna had gone straight to bed once she and Adam had gotten home from Joe’s. Truth be told, she’d had trouble falling asleep, and as a result had barely had more than two hours rest when her alarm clock went off. 

Ugh. Whoever had designed alarm clocks should be tarred and feathered, she thought as she got out of bed. As she opened it and made her way toward the bathroom, she came face to face with Adam emerging from the shower, rubbing his hair with a towel and wearing a different dressing gown from the one she’d borrowed a few nights before.

“Ah, returned to the land of the living, have we?” He smirked as he ran the towel over his hair once again.

“Yeah, but I’m not happy about it,” she groused, running a hand through her hair to get it out of her face. “Did you sleep as badly as I did last night?”

“Define ‘badly’ if you would.”

“Barely two hours and to bed without supper last night too.”

“Mmm, sounds about right,” he nodded. “The only thing that’s going to make it any better is a cup of tea and some breakfast. How do American pancakes sound?”

“Did you just say ‘American pancakes?’”

“Yeah, what do you call them?”

“Pancakes.”

He chuckled. “Alright, smartass. I’ll get started on breakfast, and you jump in the shower if you like. I’ve wiped it down so you don’t slip.”

“Thank you, Adam.” She turned away and closed the door behind her as she made her way into the bathroom. “Awww, hellfire and _fuck!”_

Of course! _Of course_ her period would show up today. No wonder she’d had trouble sleeping and had bawled like a baby in public. _Shit!_ She had _some_ supplies in her handbag, but not enough to last her more than a day or two.

“What is it?” She heard Adam call from behind the door. 

“Aunt Flo has arrived!” Berna grit her teeth. Damn it, her handbag was in her bedroom, and she was already halfway undressed. 

It went quiet for a moment, until she heard a soft knock at the door.

She sighed and opened it slightly.

“What do you need? I can head out quickly.”

“Are you sure? I can just as easily grab a few supplies out of my handbag and then go myself after I finish here.”

“Berna,” he flashed her a quick smile. “I’ve been married before. Doesn’t bother me to go get whatever supplies. Tell me what you need, and I’ll go.”

He’d said that first sentence so quietly she wasn’t sure if she’d heard him properly. “Dark chocolate, some crisps, some ibuprofen, and a box of pads, please.”

“Will do,” he disappeared into the bedroom and brought her her handbag. “Oh, by the way…”

“Yes?”

“You don’t need to use a euphemism. It’s okay if you want to say that you’re menstruating.” He held out the bag. “Something that helps propagate humanity should not be taboo.”

She nearly dropped her handbag. She’d never heard anything so eloquent. In truth, that was another huge turn on.

He smirked slightly. “Right then, off I go. I’ll be back soon.”

“Thank you, Adam.” It seemed to be a constant refrain lately. As nice as it was to be treated such, she had to wonder why he was being so kind. She’d only just met him a few days before, it wasn’t as though he had any obligation to her.

 _What a cliché,_ she snorted as she heard the front door close. _Pull yourself together, Bernadine. Stop being such a ninny, falling over Adam like some harlot._

Struggling to regain her composure, she got into the shower and turned the water on as hot as she could stand it. Being under the water gave her time to think, and also, room to cry. It seemed that all she’d done for the past couple of days was cry. Maybe it was time to get back into the dojo and spar with Duncan again. She usually did anyway, no reason to stop just because the world was upside down. Besides, it might even help with getting over David.

Once she’d finished in the shower, she’d gotten herself dressed in clean clothes and found the bottle of extra strength ibuprofen she kept in her handbag. Taking one, she went out to the living room and went looking through the bookshelves.

The entire bookcase was a disorganized mishmash of classics and new releases, all either leather bound or hardcover. What she wouldn’t give for a collection that included _Pride and Prejudice, A Tale of Two Cities, Dracula,_ and, strangely enough, _The Odyssey_ and _The Iliad_ written in Greek. Not that she could actually _read_ Greek, but what a treasure! 

She continued scanning the shelves until she came across a small leather bound volume tucked in the corner. It was well looked after, dusted and sitting between ornate bookends. Adam _must_ have considered it precious if he’d taken such care with it. 

Would it be snooping if she took the book down off the shelf, just to look? After all, Adam _had_ offered her hospitality, and didn’t that also extend to book collections?

A jarring ring startled her out of her thoughts. Looking around, she realized it was the cordless phone, still in it’s charging station.

Shrugging, she walked over and picked up the receiver.

“Hello, Adam Pierson’s phone.”

“Hi Berna.”

“Oh, hi Adam.”

“Listen, I’m at the chemist now, and I forgot to ask which pads you wanted.”

“Oh! Um… the ones in the orange wrappers.”

“Orange wrappers…” he repeated, and from the way he said it, he was scanning the shelves. “Ah ha! Found ‘em. Okay, and while I’m here, what kind of crisps did you want? I’ve already got the dark chocolate you asked for.”

“Barbecue, please.”

“Okay, now those are in another aisle…” she heard him moving and then grabbing a bag of crisps off the shelf. “Okay, that’s that. Once I’m through the checkout line, I’ll be home in about half an hour.”

“Okay. Um.., is it okay if I take a book off the shelves? I’m not really in the mood for TV.”

“Sure, help yourself. Lord knows _someone_ should read them.”

“Thank you,” she walked back over to the bookcase and, very carefully, took the book she’d been eyeing down. “See you soon.”

“See you soon.” He clicked off, and Berna put the phone back into the charging station before settling back into the couch. 

The book really was quite beautiful. As she’d noticed before, Adam had taken special care with it, and she wanted to treat it delicately. Turning it over, she noticed the cover and title. _Frankenstein: The Modern Prometheus._

No wonder she’d wanted so badly to read it! It had been her favourite book in school. Strange, though, that this copy had the full title. Most just marketed the manuscript as _Frankenstein._ Sighing, she opened the front over to the title page, and gasped in surprise. 

_To Dr. Benjamin Adams, in gratitude_

_Poor, Tormented Creature. Please do not seek to be lonely. Let the light find you._

_With Love,_

_Mary Shelley (A Lady)_

She blinked. Had Adam stumbled into this at an estate sale? If he had, he must have paid a fortune for it. What other explanation could there be for owning what was essentially an original copy, and signed by Mary Shelley herself? Good Lord, why had she taken it off the shelf? She had no business _touching_ it, let alone wanting to read it! 

Still careful, she closed the cover and gingerly put it back on the shelf between those bookends. Which, she only now realized, were carved in the shape of twin elephants. 

Just as she did, the front door opened, and she damn near jumped out of her skin. 

“Someone here?” She heard Adam ask as she came back to herself.

“No. No, sorry. I was woolgathering. The sound of the door opening startled me, that’s all.”

Adam closed the door behind him. “I got you what you asked for. How are you feeling?”

“I’ll be better once the ibuprofen kicks in. I just took one a few minutes ago. I was going to start breakfast but I got distracted.”

He chuckled and set the grocery bag on the kitchen table. “Happens to the best of us.” She turned around as he moved into the kitchen. “Pancakes still sound good to you?”

“Oh yes please,” she answered, grateful for the distraction from her thoughts. “How do you usually do them?”

They put together a large stack of blueberry pancakes, complete with heated maple syrup and cups of tea. Sitting down together to enjoy them, Berna felt the ibuprofen start to work, and suddenly, things didn’t seem so terrible.

“I was wondering…” she began as she took a sip of her tea. 

“And what were you wondering?” Adam put his knife and fork down, giving her his full attention. 

“That copy of _Frankenstein_ that you’ve got, between the bookends?”

“What about it?”

“I was wondering about the inscription. Who’s Dr. Benjamin Adams and how did he know Mary Shelley?”

The look on his face told her nothing. 

“And where would you have gotten the book? It must have cost you a fortune.”

“Not really,” he shrugged. “I was quite lucky in that respect.”

“Which respect? That you’re good at negotiating?”

He chuckled. “I am, indeed. That copy cost one half crown at the time of publication. Which is… what year is it now? 1998, so a half crown when I bought it in 1985 is about 1 pound. And, converted to American currency, it cost me about $1.35.”

“Bullshit!” she couldn’t stop herself. “You expect me to believe that a _signed copy_ of _Frankenstein_ cost you _less_ than a dollar-fifty? Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me that unicorns existed and that Prince Charming was a real person.”

“You didn’t let me finish, Berna,” he was smirking. “I meant that, if I’d bought it at its price at the time of publication, _then_ it would have cost me $1.35. No, I bought that copy for about $200,000.”

“Go away wi’ you,” her mother’s favourite expression tumbled out of her mouth without warning. “Where did you get $200,000 dollars? I could buy a house with that and have money left over.”

Silence filled the room.

“And that was extremely rude of me. I apologize.” She cleared her throat and took a bite of her breakfast. “Still, $200,000 is _a lot_ of money. I don’t think I’ve spent more than $1,700 at one time, and that was on a good quality bed! Which, incidentally, David still has at the apartment. When he gives me the money he owes me, I’d like to buy myself a few things, one of which is a new bed. And a new slow cooker, come to think of it.”

“Hmm,” Adam nodded. “So, are you saying you’d like to stay?”

“If you’ll have me,” she answered. “I’m not a _terrible_ house guest, am I? I like your company. And being around Joe and Duncan is nice, too.”

“You’re a wonderful house guest,” he agreed. “But you’re not beholden to me. Should you decide you want your own place, we can look for one together. The one you looked at the other day was most definitely not suitable.”

“I appreciate that, I really do,” she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “But you changed the subject. How did you end up with that much money, and to buy a book at that?”

Adam shrugged. “One of my relatives had friends in high places. Invested the money wisely, and then when my parents passed away, I was given access to all the funds.”

“I’m sorry,” she put her hand over his. 

“It’s alright, they taught me well.” Adam flexed his fingers and moved to pick up his tea. “I stick to a budget, and once in a blue moon, I’m able to afford something like a signed copy of _Frankenstein.”_

Berna snorted. “I don’t actually believe you, but I’ll let it go for now.” She took another bite of her breakfast, finishing off her pancakes. “Obvious lies aside, and I _will_ extract the truth from you about, don’t you dare think that this conversation is over, I have to hand it to you. You are a deft hand at blueberry pancakes.”

“That’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me about my cooking.”

“You’re not upset that I just called you a liar?”

“Why would I be?” he smirked. “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, and I’m a bullshitter to the highest degree.”

Berna snorted. “Well, don’t we think highly of ourselves?” She took a sip of tea. “Never mind all that, Mr. High and Mighty Bullshitter.” There was affection in her voice. “What else can you make?”

“I’m trying very hard not to be insulted,” he injected the same note of affection into his own voice. “But you name it, I probably could.”

“Lucky. I’m okay, but I’d classify my skill level at just slightly above ‘keep self alive.’”

“Your parents didn’t try to teach you?”

“Oh, they did,” Berna finished her tea and took her dishes to the sink. “Frankly, I think they were just happy that I was able to put things together in the slow cooker and let it cook itself. Also, bless whoever invented the slow cooker.”

“Irving Nachumsohn, went by Naxon.”

“Are you always so quick with trivial tidbits?”

“Sometimes, not always.”

“Well, anyway, bless Naxon for retaining the patent,” Berna pulled on the faucet and started the sink filling to wash the dishes.

“Since we’re on the subject of money…” Adam began.

“Yes?”

“How much does David owe you?”

“All in all? A little over $4,000. And that includes the money for a new slow cooker.”

Adam whistled. “Here’s hoping he gives you all that he owes you.”

“If he doesn’t, I’m sure I can find a way to convince him.” 

“Oh? What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’ll go to the apartment and kick him. Then run the other way.”

Adam laughed, a deep belly laugh that seemed to echo throughout the kitchen. “I’m sure we could come up with something a _little_ more creative, should he not pay you what you’re owed.”

“In that case, don’t go making plans to dangle him over a balcony by his ankles just yet, then,” she added dish soap to the running water. “Ooh, I like that idea. Why didn’t I think of that before?”

Adam shot her a smile and got up to put his dishes in the sink, and to help with drying. “Are you on shift at Joe’s tonight?”

“As I am every night except Tuesdays,” she handed him the last of the plates and set to work on the frying pan, scrubbing it with steel wool. “I’m kind of curious to know what people thought of my performance the other night. It was fun.”

“Would you do it again?”

“If Joe asked, sure. It felt good to have a guitar in my hand again. That reminds me, the guitar that’s at my parents’ house needs to be tuned before I can play it properly.”

“What kind do you have?”

“A Gibson acoustic,” she smiled to herself as she gave the frying pan a once over with her hand. “I saved for a year to buy it when I was thirteen, and once I got it, I played it every day for hours on end. I’m sure my parents got tired of hearing the beginning chords to all of their childhood songs they’d ever taught me played over and over until I could play and sing them in my sleep.”

“Like what?”

“Would you have heard of them?”

“Perhaps I have. Try me.”

She listed quite a few. She’d learned everything from _Roll the Old Chariot_ to _Chicken on a Raft_ to a bawdy song about a drunken Scot who had woken up to a blue ribbon tied around his penis, then propositioned a young lady who asked about what he wore under his kilt.

“Probably shouldn’t sing that one in front of MacLeod,” Adam managed once he’d stopped laughing. “Although, I _haven’t_ heard it, now that I think about it. Care to sing it?”

“Only if you clap along with me at the end of every sentence. Like this,” she clapped twice in rhythm, spraying soap suds on his shirt. She let out a singular _ha_ before starting into the song. 

ooOoo

Methos did indeed clap along as Berna sang, and saw how she relaxed as she did. She seemed… lighter somehow. Like the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders for a moment.

What was she doing, working as a bartender when she had such a passion for the guitar and singing? He was sure that if he spoke with Joe, he’d find a way to let her perform more than the once she’d already done…

A familiar Buzz washed over him as they finished both the song and the dishes. Berna was still humming to herself as he went to answer the door, throwing the drying towel over his shoulder.

He opened the door to see MacLeod, Joe, and Berna’s parents all standing in the doorway. 

He snorted. “Hey Berna, you got your wish!”

“What wish?” She came around from the kitchen and into the living room, and burst into peals of laughter.

“What’s the joke?” Duncan looked from him to Berna wildly, trying to puzzle it out. Of course, they’d finished singing just before everyone arrived, so they hadn’t heard it. 

Berna snorted, trying to contain herself, and failed. “ _Ring ding ding diddle diddle eye dee oh, ring ding diddly eye oh…”_

“Now who’s been after winning first prize, then?” Michelle stepped into the fray. “Hi, gorgeous.”

“Hi Mammy,” Berna’s giggles slowly turned into hiccups as she greeted her mother. 

Methos watched this playful banter with a smile as Duncan came back over to where he and Joe were currently standing. “What did you do to her, Methos?”

“Aside from ask her to sing?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t think it’s my place to tell you. If the lady wants you to know, she’ll say something.”

MacLeod looked stunned. 

“Besides that, how the hell did I end up with….” he scanned the room, doing a headcount. “Four extra people in my apartment this morning? What’s so important?”

Berna’s squeak from the other side of the room drew his attention.

“Mammy, you _brought my shoes?”_ She sounded exuberant. “I haven’t danced in nearly six years! Adam, _look!”_

She was holding two pairs of shoes in her hands, her face split in the biggest smile he’d ever seen. This one reached her eyes. 

“The hard soles will be too noisy, especially this early in the morning, but the soft ones should be fine. Do you mind if I put them on? I’d like to see if I can still remember what to do.”

“Why not?” Johannes appeared from the front hall. “We also brought your guitar, and we’ve got the flute, the fiddle and the accordion. Joe has his guitar too.”

Berna’s face lit up. She looked like a child who had just gotten everything she’d asked for from Father Christmas. 

“If that’s the case, then maybe, with everyone having their instruments here, we could have a bit of a dance and sing along?”

Suddenly everyone’s eyes were on him, and the morning’s tranquility was broken by the promise of music and company. 

“What are you all looking at me for? This is Berna’s home, too.”

Berna’s mouth dropped open in surprise. That was it; that was the confirmation she needed. No longer a guest, but someone who had a permanent place in their lives. 

“Let’s go to the bar,” she recovered quickly. “That way we can be as loud as we like and there’s no one to tell us otherwise.”

“Good idea,” Duncan nodded. “More room, too.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were all in the bar, Berna having been given her shoes and changing into them while Duncan and Johannes took down a few chairs and got them set up. 

The good thing about wearing soft shoes was that, if you were walking in them properly, there was no sound against the floor, just the vibration of your footsteps. Berna paced the floor for a few moments, getting used to the feeling of wearing them again. 

With everyone distracted, getting the chairs and instruments ready, she stretched. It was a sudden, strange feeling. Stretching before dancing had once been second nature to her. Now, she felt nervous and excited and terrified. 

But these people were her friends and family. There were no stakes here. No one would care if she missed a step. 

Tamping down her nerves, she expected to hear the beginning notes that had started so many of her routines as a child, and made her way out to where everyone now sat in their chairs, instruments poised and ready. 

Then, the beginning note that sounded from her father’s accordion was not one she could dance to, nor was it meant to be. 

_Óró Sé do Bheatha Bhaile_

_Óró Sé do Bheatha Bhaile_

_Óró Sé do Bheatha Bhaile_

_Anois ar theacht an tsamhraidh_

Oh good Lord. They were welcoming her home. Even Duncan and Adam seemed to know the words. Berna swallowed the lump in her throat and listened in the shadows, not daring to move until she heard her mother’s fiddle start up.

With those first few steps, it felt like she’d never stopped dancing. Everything came flooding back, muscle memory taking over. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the music swell, and felt someone grab her hand, falling in step with her. 

Adam. 

_Adam knew how to dance?!_

They locked eyes as they moved together, the sound of his boots a huge contrast to her own steps. 

The room faded as her concentration centred on what her feet were doing, and Adam’s intense, intent gaze. 

Around and around they went, moving apart and together with the sound of the fiddle, accordion, guitar, and… who had the flute? Didn’t matter. Time stopped as the music finished, both she and Adam breathing heavily with the realization of what they’d just shared. 

Berna closed the gap between them and kissed his cheek, whispering so low only he could hear it. 

“ _Go raibh maith agat, Tiarna Bás.”_

ooOoo

May goodness be with you, she’d said.

But it was what she had addressed him as that caught his attention.

She’d then addressed him as Tiarna Bás. 

Lord of Death. 

Death.

To hide his surprise, Methos took Berna’s chin in his hand and kissed her. 

“Smart little Spirit. Tell me what else you know.” His voice was low in his throat, his lips close to her ear. “What does this smart little Spirit know about Death?”

Berna felt multiple shivers go down her spine.

“There are other people here, Adam,” she countered. “As much as I’d like to show you, it will have to wait. We’re in public…”

He hoped that the look on his face told her she had much to look forward to once they got home. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat broke the spell that had settled over them.

“Hey, lovebirds, you coming back?”

He saw Berna blink at Joe, and bit back a laugh. Lovebirds? _Them?_ Absolutely ridiculous.

“Yeah,” she nodded, and the two of them walked back over to the group, Methos’ arm around her waist. “Can we do _Maid on the Shore_ or _Leave Her Johnny_ next?”

For the first time since they’d started, Methos saw and heard both her parents laugh.

“Trust you, Berna, to want to sing one of those.”

“Why’s that funny, Da?”

“Because those were the first songs you learned on the guitar. _Leave Her Johnny_ doesn’t usually have music along with it, but you made one up anyway.”

“Isn’t that what songs are for?” She countered, settling her guitar on her knee while stealing a glance at Methos. “Specifically sea shanties?”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “Do you want to start us off with _Maid on the Shore_ ?”

Berna laughed, and this time it was a deep belly laugh. Methos spent most of the opening to _Maid on the Shore_ watching her relax into playing her guitar, clapping along when necessary as he didn’t have an instrument of his own.

_They replaced her away in his cabin below_

_Let the wind blow high, blow low_

_She's so pretty and neat, she's so sweet and complete_

_She sung Captain and sailors to sleep, sleep, sleep …_

_She sung Captain and sailors to sleep_

_Then she robbed him of silver, she robbed him of gold_

_She robbed him of costly ware-o_

_Then took his broadsword instead of an oar_

_And paddled her way to the shore, shore, shore …_

_Then paddled her way to the shore_

What surprised him even more was how well her voice harmonized along with Joe’s, who somehow knew the lyrics to this song as well as all the others. MacLeod was also very good at playing the flute, although the amount of time he’d had to entertain himself while travelling before he settled in Seacouver would have been enough to pick up an instrument… Methos felt a slight pang of jealousy in never having learned any modern instruments. He’d learned to play the lute, however long ago that had been, but those were few and far between in the twentieth century.

Then, as he listened to the song finish, he saw Michelle put her fiddle down and pull a stamped envelope out of her coat pocket. From the cramped handwriting, he saw that it was addressed to Berna. If that was what he thought it was, the mood was about to get extremely somber.

But Michelle didn’t say anything to bring attention to the envelope itself. She simply got up and put the envelope in Berna’s guitar case when Berna wasn’t looking, then sat back down in her chair, giving Methos a pointed look as she did.

The subject of the envelope would come up later once they got home, he knew. But for now, none of them wanted to spoil the feeling of comradery and fun they seemed to have developed.

He also found he was enjoying himself, and in doing so, he couldn’t help but look over his shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

**Author's Note:**

> Song Lyrics, by Artist  
> You’re a God- Vertical Horizon  
> Dare You to Move- Switchfoot  
> Óró- Séo Linn  
> The Scotsman- Séamus Kennedy  
> Maid on the Shore- Stan Rogers


End file.
